Let it Snow
by DamnI'mRandom
Summary: 'Tis the season to be jolly, and our favourite Baker Street boys are up to things both naughty and nice. CHRISTMAS SPECIAL! Established Johnlock.


_It's CHRISTMAAAAAAAAAS! __God__, but I love the Christmas season. There's something about this season that just… makes me __so happy__! Anyway, here's something that just came up, and I thought I'd post it here, it being the holiday season and all. I own nothing, of course. I hope you like it! :)_

...

The snow fell prettily on the road, covering every inch with its pristine whiteness. No cars whizzed by to disturb it, and this was what John Watson loved most about this time of the year. He was sitting in his armchair with his legs inching steadily towards the fire, watching the snowfall from the window with a feeling of contentment that only _winter_ can bring. Sherlock was fumbling about in his room, looking for a long-lost book on tree parasites, most probably. He'd become obsessed with trees lately. (Fun fact: John had found it and hidden it a while back, and used it as a way to distract Sherlock whenever the latter was particularly grumpy from the lack of cases.)

It was Christmas Eve and the lights had been put up, as had the tree. The gifts had been wrapped neatly and placed under the tree and the meal had been prepared for their now-annual Christmas Eve party (John, obviously, had done all of the cooking, as Sherlock had refused to budge from his sot in front of the fire). Molly and her husband James, New Scotland Yard's latest couple, DI Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes, Mrs Hudson and Mike Stamford were coming over in a bit, and it was going to be just like old times. With one big difference.

'Sherlock,' John called out, having noted that his _fiancé _had stopped bumping into the many boxes in his room.

'What?'

'Did you find what you were looking for yet?'

'Oh, er, yes. Yeah, found it.'

'Come on here, then, I have to show you something.'

Sherlock emerged from his room wearing a puzzled expression. John laughed when he saw the bits of styrofoam in his dark, curly hair and reached his hand up to bat it out as Sherlock settled himself onto his lap.

'What did you want to show me?' Sherlock asked, looping his arms around John's neck.

'This.' John gently removed Sherlock's arms from around his neck and tugged his collar down to reveal the words written on the joint where the shoulder bone met the collar bone. Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath when he saw it.

_Property of Sherlock Holmes._

Sherlock took both of John's hands in his and bent down to kiss the tattoo once, twice, thrice, caressing it with his tongue, tracing the words with it, leaving a hot trail from the shoulder to the neck, and finally reached the mouth. He kissed John hungrily, conveying just how moved he was by his fiancé's action.

'Is this supposed to be my Christmas present?' he asked, undoing the top button of John's plaid shirt.

'No, but if you're good tonight, I promise I'll make _this _up to you later,' John whispered, his breath hot on Sherlock's exposed chest.

'What?' Sherlock asked, disoriented.

'There're guests coming over, Sherlock.'

'Sod the guests,' Sherlock replied in a desperate voice.

'I _promise_, Sherlock. I'll even let you try on those antlers I bought for you.'

'What antlers?'

'Shh.' With one fluid movement, John dumped the detective on the floor in order to be able to get up himself, then offered his partner his hand and hauled him up. He buttoned Sherlock's shirt up again and tried to make his dishevelled hair look presentable, but gave it up as hopeless after a while.

Sherlock looked at him with that helpless _How do I get rid of this hard-on?_ expression. John sighed.

'Just think of Anderson in drag,' he advised, while doing the same and grimacing as the dreadful image stuck in his mind. Sherlock shivered in dread and mouthed, 'Yuck.'

'Alright, now I just need to get changed, and you,' John said, eyeing Sherlock's attire, 'just need to wear your jacket.'

'You'd better keep your promise, John,' Sherlock mumbled as he put his jacket on.

'When have I ever broken a promise?' John said, and he pecked Sherlock lightly. 'I love you.'

'I love you too,' Sherlock sighed, wrapping his arms around John.

…

The party went by pleasantly enough, though Mrs Hudson got a little too tipsy after consuming eight large goblets (yes, _goblets_) of eggnog and had to be escorted downstairs to her home by a chivalrous Lestrade, whom she kept calling 'my knight in shining armour'. Mycroft couldn't keep his eyes off his boyfriend the entire time, and the way the DI directed his smouldering gaze towards Mycroft, it was obvious who was on the naughty list. Molly and her husband James were engaging in small talk with Mike Stamford, who also had trouble walking straight.

John and Sherlock had eyes only for each other, and were extremely glad when everyone went home for the night.

…

The clock struck twelve as the couple lay in bed, the antlers thrown carelessly on the floor in a fit of passion.

'Merry Christmas, Sherlock,' John whispered as he leaned in towards his partner.

'I hope so,' Sherlock replied as he kissed John sweetly. 'Merry Christmas to you, too.'

'With you around, everything's merry.' John grinned and took Sherlock's hand.

'Wait 'til I give you your present tomorrow, it'll get better.'

'I sure has hell hope it isn't yet another book on the practices of the ancient Mayans.'

'No, it isn't a book on Mayans. It's something even better. You'll love it.'

'Because I like Mayans as much as the next man, but there's a limit to liking them.' He squeezed Sherlock's hand tightly.

'God, but I love you, my John.'

'I love you, too.'

…

_Merry Christmas, everybody, and a very, very happy new year! Don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts on ANYTHING! I thought I'd post this early, 'cos I'll be having a really busy December, what with shifting and reviews and other meaningless shit. _


End file.
